Promise to Cherish (9 page)

“I think Marlene Miller likes me.” He winked at Eli.

Marlene was here with her brother while he served. She helped in the laundry room and did some odds and ends for the C.O.’s. She was a nice girl and Eli hoped that Freddy was right.

“So, what did Matilda say in her sugar report?” Freddy asked.

“It was from my
dat
.”

“But Matilda’s still writing you, right?” Freddy asked.

Eli nodded and sighed.

“You’re a lucky fella. What’s the matter with you?”

Eli’s gaze narrowed on his friend. “I told her before I left for the camp and in my first letter back that we are only friends. I have a feeling she thinks we are more than that.”

“Well, why not? She’s cute, right? Good cook?” Freddy rubbed his belly, reminding Eli of a character in a comic strip.

“Sure, she’s cute, but I’m just not interested in her that way.” Eli remembered how Matilda looked up at him that last Singing. He should’ve noticed the stars in her eyes and never agreed to allow her to write him, but that seemed awfully harsh.

“Surely there’s another girl?”

“Not for now. If you knew my reputation back home, you’d understand. I have to stay on the straight and narrow.”

For several long strides the two men walked on toward the cafeteria in a neighboring building.

“I know you’ve said you plan to stay with the church but I have to say, buddy, I’m surprised. You don’t seem the type to stay.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Aw, come on, you know the type. Dependable. Follows the rules.” Freddy elbowed Eli. “A lot more like DeWayne than you. Surprises me that DeWayne doesn’t actually leave the Mennonites to go Amish.” Freddy chuckled then waved at some of the other C.O.’s and jogged toward the cafeteria. He didn’t even realize Eli didn’t follow him.

Eli had been kicked in the stomach by a cow before. The blow had caused several broken ribs and a bit of a bruised ego. Freddy’s words hit him harder. Freddy had seen his dedication to the hospital, the way he stood up for the patients. Eli had even become one of the men to help lead the singing for their self-made church services. Why did Freddy think he wasn’t a solid, committed man?

During the summer he’d retreated back a few acres to the gardens and often helped with it after his shift. He enjoyed working the soil and working with his hands. But the ground was hard and cold in December and his breath in front of his face made his irritation grow.

“What’s gotten into you?”

A familiar voice broke into his thoughts and he stopped to look for it.

“Nurse Freeman?” A smile landed easily on his lips but was wiped away when he saw the cigarette between her fingers.

“Brenneman.” She nodded. She puffed and blew the smoke away then moved in step with him.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” He tried to keep his tone light but he fought his instinct to pick on her. They were always half arguing with each other, though it had calmed some in the last few months.

“I don’t,” she responded as the last pull of smoke blew out as she spoke. She looked at the cigarette between her fingers. She threw it on the ground and twisted a black shoe over it on the cold ground.

He raised his eyebrows.

“What? Why was I smoking if I don’t smoke?”

He stifled a chuckle.

“Milli—Nurse Smythe, the night nurse, gave it to me. She said it calms her. I’ve smoked a few cigarettes in my time but it’s not something I do often.”

“It doesn’t seem like you,” he said.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Christine’s eastern accent stretched like taffy from her mouth when she got riled up. Her hands went on her hips as she stopped and waited for an answer.

Eli stopped and turned to look at her. She wasn’t wearing her nursing cap. He didn’t often see her without it. She was awfully pretty. Her hair moved in the winter breeze. Her eyes squinted against the cold and her face reminded him of the smoothness of fresh milk when it was poured in the large canisters—smooth as silk.

“I’m sorry, that didn’t come out the right way.”

She started walking and he fell into step with her. They were silent for a long minute and only wind through the dead tree limbs could be heard.

“You’re right,” she said. “I hate it, actually. Always makes my lungs feel like they are about to start their own fire.”

“Why are you out here?” He changed the subject.

“Just needed some air. Everyone else went out dancing tonight.”

“You don’t like dancing?” Eli had never danced in his life but suddenly wondered what it would be like to dance with her.

Eli gestured to sit at the bench near the dry, cold garden. They both sat. He blew into his hands, trying to warm them. He wished he’d brought his
szitbahkapp
with him. His mother never let him go outside this time of year without a stocking cap—even at his age.

“Sure, I love dancing. You?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never danced.” He peeked at her through the side of his eyes and chuckled.

“Of course. How dumb of me to ask.” Christine put her hand in front of her mouth as if to stifle a laugh. She cleared her throat before beginning again. “So, what do you and the others usually do on a Saturday night?”

He shrugged. Another smile wanted to curl around his mouth but he resisted. He didn’t want to give her the impression he was flirting with her. He wanted to though. Flirt, that is.

“It’s not much different from any other day since we have to work anyway. I guess we usually make sure we are ready for service on Sunday morning.”

“What about at home?”

“ ’Bout the same as any other day. Milk the cows, keep the pasture and stalls cleaned up, get the milk ready for the milk truck, get ready for Sunday service. A few times a week we have families come who can’t afford to buy milk and we make sure there’s enough to give away.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He shrugged. “It’s just how things should be. Some families never bounced back from the Depression.”

In his peripheral vision he looked at Christine. Her expression was distant and she only nodded slightly at his comment.

“I usually try to write my letters also,” he added.

Christine looked up at the sky and pointed. “Look.”

Dark clouds had been hovering all day and were growing blacker. A winter storm was on its way. Suddenly, in the next moment, they were being pelted with hail and sleet.

“Come on.” Eli pulled Nurse Freeman toward the greenhouse awning. They both laughed like children the whole way and were out of breath by the time they stopped running. Eli noticed she continued to hold on to the side of his coat as they caught their breath. Her cheeks had turned rosy and her rich brown eyes sparkled, even in the darkness that was passing over them. They were silent for a while before Christine finally spoke.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she said between breaths.

“What’s that?”

“You’ve taken everything in stride at the hospital. You put me to shame. My nerves are always twisted in a knot.”

“What do you worry about?” he said seriously while keeping a friendly smile on his face.

Her hand released from his coat and she looked away, over his shoulder, and as she breathed deeply, her smile faded. She pulled out a bottle of soda from her coat pocket and tried in vain to open it. Eli took it from her, opened it, and handed it back.

“Thanks.” She took a long drink before she spoke again. “What if I told you that the only reason I work here is because I need to support my parents. My father’s crippled—practically—and my ma would never get a job because it wouldn’t look
respectable
in front of all the committees she volunteers at. My brothers are dead, so it’s just me and my sister—we’re all they have.”

There was a bitter tone in her words. He leaned against the outside of the greenhouse.

“I’d say that you’re a daughter who loves her family.”

She shrugged and handed him the soda bottle. Her lost expression, like a stamp, embedded itself in his memory. He knew he wanted to do everything to bring a smile to her face.

“It doesn’t matter why you’re here, you’re still a caring and capable nurse,” he repeated. He took a drink and enjoyed the fizz. It had been a while with his limited income.

Christine chuckled a bit as he handed the bottle back. “Thanks. I know that must be hard for you to say.”

“Why do you say that?” Eli smiled at her.

“Well, I haven’t made things exactly easy for you, Brenneman.”

“Will you please call me Eli?”

Christine laughed at his request.

“What’s so funny?” he said as they continued to cordially share the bottle of soda.

She shook her head. “When you first arrived I never thought I’d like you or any of you C.O.’s and I have to say, I’m glad you’re here, Brenneman.” She cleared her throat and fiddled with her glasses.

“You’ve dashed my hopes.” Eli pretended being struck in the heart for her using his last name instead of his first.

“Okay,
Eli
,” she shoved him playfully. “But only if you’ll call me Christine. That would be a nice change around here.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal,
Christine
.” He nodded.

“But not when we’re on duty.” She wagged her finger at him.

“Of course,” he said, imagining when else they are even around each other to use their first names. This conversation was a first.

She offered the last of the soda to him and he shook his head. She finished it as they stood together in silence.

“You know, I thought you stayed at the hospital because I was so ruggedly handsome.”

She slapped his arm. Eli feigned injury and they both laughed. Her mood appeared different from when they first met up. His heart tugged at her closeness, though he quickly pushed it away. She could be his friend. He could not allow his feelings to get wrapped up any more than that.

“Are we friends now?” He gave her his best smile.

Christine bit her lower lip.

“Friends,” she said.

December 17, 1945

Dear Eli,

The Lord’s blessing on you and on this holy season of Christmas. I wish you could come home. I’ve enclosed an extra stamp as a gift.

Is New York white with snow? Sunrise is and it feels colder than ever even though I know it isn’t. Our new schoolteacher, Alberta Glick, is probably getting married to Reuben Esch this spring. Can you believe that? She moved to Sunrise from Lancaster to teach and now the school’s going to have to find a new teacher already.

A few people have asked me if I’d be interested. I told them I doubt it. It’s not something I could see myself being able to do very long anyway. Don’t you think you’ll be coming home soon? This spring maybe?

Sylvia and Mark’s twins sure are cute. Sylvia and I have become good friends and I have gone over several times to help her out since I live so close to her. It’s less than a mile between our houses. She and I are almost like sisters. Can you believe that?

I better go. Sorry to cut this letter short. I know the mailman will be here soon and I want to make sure the letter gets out today so that you have it by Christmas.

Yours truly,

Matilda

Eli received the letter from Matilda just before Christmas. Her simple gift reminded him of the year when his parents couldn’t afford more than an orange and homemade pretend shotguns made with dried corncobs and wooden spools for each child. He and his brothers pretended to shoot birds and squirrels for months. It wasn’t until years later that Eli realized what a humble Christmas that was. The fruit had been given to them by English neighbors, along with their Christmas dinner. Matilda’s family was still in much financial distress and the gift of a stamp touched him.

Eli left his room after he wrote Matilda back, and he found everyone in high spirits. The lady volunteers made spiced cider and apple pie for everyone along with a traditional turkey and potato lunch. Just as he sat among his friends, the harmonicas started. Larry and his sister, Mira, who volunteered, stood tapping their toes as they played one Christmas tune after another. Eli didn’t even know the words to all of them but he couldn’t remember such a festive Christmas Day in his life. The food and the sounds of the harmonicas made Eli think of home—his family—but the longer he was away the more he knew he would never fit in again at home. He thought of Wally and their friendship, and he thought of Christine.